The Flame
by eednaM
Summary: Adelaide is three Reapings away from being free of it all, but the arrival of a Quarter Quell changes everything. When she is chosen to participate in the 100th Hunger Games, Adelaide ignites the spark of something that should have gone out twenty-five years ago.
1. Hunting

A/N: I am co-writing a Hunger Games fanfic with one of my good friends, Sammy, and this is the first chapter written by me! (Mandee!) I'm sure both of us will gladly take any criticism, feedback, and things of the like! So please enjoy the first chapter, feel free to drop by and share your ideas/thoughts, and make sure to keep updated!

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From the window in the dining room overlooking my backyard, our house surroundings looked practically normal. The grass was a deep green, the forest in the background provided the tune of mockingjays, and the sun was a golden crisp on the weeping willow gathering dust in the corner. One look, and we were the average, poor, starving citizens of District 12 suffering from unfair rights. Forced to live in poverty while our 'superiors' refused to share their wealth.

But that was just one look. Upon closer inspection, the naked eye could realize that four days a week the daughter of the household escapes through the back door of the shack, bolts into the woods, and doesn't reappear until the sunset three hours later. Dead rabbits, foxes, weasels, birds, and occasional deer strung across her shoulders, and a look of satisfaction smug on her features.

"Adelaide Lovise!"

I snapped around, one foot out of the house, and came to face my father. "Dad?"

"Don't go forgetting your weapon, now!" He thrust at me a silver, brown streaked boomerang that rang beautiful in the palm of my hand, sparkling brightly with a new shining.

Thanking my dad with a sheepish grin, I excused myself from our shack at a fast running pace towards the forest. If you traveled far enough in the forest, you would come across a fence falsely rumored to electrocute anyone daring enough to climb over or under it. I was one of the few foolish people who took the risk anyway, and used the woods the fence was shielding to access meat for my father and me.

My feet pounded through the forest, and the sound of nature filled my ears. I could smell the trees, ground, and everything in between. Greens and oranges swam past my eyes, until finally they rested on a tall, metal fence with a warning sign hanging loosely from above.

I stopped abruptly and, swinging my boomerang over my shoulder, ducked underneath a hole in the bottom of the fence. I could feel the sharp graze of the broken wire against my back, but I was used to it by now. The leather jacket that belonged to my mother before she left was protecting my upper body, and soon I was positioned twenty feet in; quiet as possible.

A bird hooting in the distance. A gentle wind whistling. _A leaf being crunched_.

In the flick of a moment, my shining boomerang was flying through the air, slicing through the eye of a fox, and then landing back in my hand. Smirking slightly at the familiar reassurance of this situation, I stepped lightly over to the fallen animal and slung it over a low tree branch. I would collect it later, once I was finished hunting.

Blood sprinkled the silver on my boomerang, but I didn't clean it. There would be time do that later. I walked about ten more feet into the forest, and waited silently for the sound of prey.

A running stream. Crickets.

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _

Spotting the deer in the distance, I turned slightly so he wouldn't spot me, and took aim. This could add a great piece to a special dinner, or sell for some baked, fresh bread. How long had it been since I'd eaten a fresh, warm roll? Two weeks? Three? Dad would be so ecstatic.

I let the weapon fly out of my fingers, and watched with a tug of triumph as it sliced through the animals neck. Not a spot-on throw, but still plenty of meat would be left. _Plenty_.

The deer, I decided, I would hide in the open back of a large tree-trunk—it was far too important to throw over a branch.

Two rabbits and another fox later, I was sitting by the stream that flowed through the woods. I washed my bloodied hands, weapon, and face in the cool water. My reflection swam into view, and I tried hard to ignore it. I hated observing myself, because it made me think too much of something I meant to forget.

But this time, I caught myself staring too far in to turn away. The soft, wavy fall of my mid-back brown hair and two honey-colored irises filled with warmth—they came together in a way that accented my heart-shaped face. I looked naïve. I wasn't naïve.

I sent my fingers running through the water, obscuring the portrait of a time I wanted to forget. I couldn't afford to self-indulge right now. I was not the most worse-off.

Picking up my boomerang, I slung it over my shoulder and walked back through the woods. The branch holding my catches remained untouched, and a small part of me was relieved. I'd never been caught before, sneaking into the restricted area of District 12, but I always dreaded that one day I would be found and then severely punished.

Sliding a rough sack out of my leather jacket, I filled it with the four dead animals and tied it around my underarm. The deer eyed me from its hiding spot, and I hesitated about how to go about this. A deer was heavy, but I was not weak. I could carry it. The matter was _how_ to carry it.

A few seconds later, I gently settled the deer over both of my shoulders and held onto its legs. By the time I got to the electric fence, I was sweating and panting. I was strong—definitely—but that didn't make me immune to exhaustion or the sun's beating rays. Sliding underneath the fence hole with ease, I hurried through the back door of our shack. The swinging door slammed shut behind me, and I laid out my findings on the table.

Dad walked in a few minutes later, and to say he was impressed with my work today was an understatement. "Well done, Addie." He gave my shoulder a squeeze, and kissed my temple lightly.

"What do you say we feast after tomorrow is over?" I asked him.

Tomorrow was Reaping Day. One boy and girl from each of the 13 districts would be chosen to participate in the 100th Hunger Games, where they would enter an arena and fight to the death until one lone victor remained. District 12 was one of the well-known districts because of Katniss Everdeen, the girl titled as the face of the rebellion after the 74th games—the _Mockingjay_—who was killed in the middle of the war between the districts and the Capitol. District 13 was demolished in the Dark Days, but after they were exposed as being alive, they were thrown back into the Hunger Games.

The rebellion ended, a failed attempt, and the Capitol remained in control. I was sixteen-years-old, and only three Reapings away from being free of it all.

"I say a feast tomorrow night sounds lovely," said Dad, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, "To celebrate one year closer to a happy life."


	2. The Reaping

A/N: This is officially a solo story! My co-writer is too stressed with work to help me write it! So hopefully I'll be okay on my own.

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The sun was shining through the open window in my room; calling to me, telling me it was time to wake up. I didn't want to wake up. I didn't want to go to the Reaping. The worn sheets of my bed huddled around me, holding me close, and I was content on staying in this position for the rest of the day.

I guess, the odds weren't in my favor.

"Addie, get up!" My dad's grizzly face appeared in the crack between my door and the wall.

"Thomas and Riley are here," he clapped his hands together, a grin pinching at his golden stubble, "They're waiting on you."

I knew they weren't just waiting on me—they were waiting on DeLuca too. Thomas and Riley, the twin boys who lived across the way from us, have been my best friends for as long as anyone can remember. DeLuca, on the other hand, came along from the Capitol (no one knows why) when she was just a baby, and didn't try to befriend us until we were fourteen and about to experience another dreadful Reaping.

I grumbled, wishing I could pull the covers over my face, but got up anyway. I knew I couldn't prolong fate. No one could…except the President.

President Snow Jr., the grandson of Panem's previous president—President Snow—took over the reign almost five years ago. Both Snows' were devious men, existing only to bring tragedy to the 13 Districts they controlled.

"Time's ticking," Dad said, shutting my door. I could hear him tauntingly making ticking noises as he walked back into the only other room in our shack besides his room—the dining room.

I pulled open my dresser; I wore the same thing every year, the only clothes I owned that were at least a little bit presentable for a 'big occasion' such as the Reaping. A black, knee-length dress was tucked inside the drawer, patterns of roses strewn on the trim. I picked it up and laid it out on my bed, but even the sight of the only piece of clothing my mother left behind besides her leather jacket didn't make me smile. And why should it? I hated that woman.

And woman foolish enough to leave my father—and at such a terrible time—doesn't deserve my time.

A small tub of heated water was waiting for me in the corner of my room, and I spent five minutes scrubbing the filth off of my skin. The water turned from a clear color to dirty brown, and by the time I stepped out, it was more a tub of dirt than it was water.

My hair fell to my mid-back in soft brown ringlets, and I pulled it over my right shoulder; braiding it in an elegant fishtail. Shrugging on the tan leather jacket that was worn with wear, I rushed out of my room and out the door of our small shack. Thomas and Riley were waiting like Dad said, but DeLuca was with them now too.

"By the love of freedom, you take ages to get ready," said DeLuca, tucking a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear.

Thomas snorted. "Oh, don't act like you didn't just get here a minute ago."

"As interesting as it is listening to you two argue, I think we better get going." Riley ushered the fumbling pair ahead of us, sharing a knowing glance with me. I hesitated slightly, but then smiled. The four of us were great friends, but Riley was my closest—we were inseparable at times.

On our way to the District 12 plaza—which wasn't too impressive—small, deserted stores, a candy shop almost no one could afford, newspaper stands—we witnessed the usual situation that was the Reaping. Little kids crying; fearing for their older siblings. Twelve-year-old children, frozen in terror at their new chances of being chosen for slaughter. Parents, relatives, and pets weeping at the thought of never seeing their loved ones again.

The only people who weren't emotional wrecks were the Peacekeepers, who were in-charge of keeping the District in line. Not many people were fond of the Peacekeepers, but there were a few of the in-clad-white authorities that knew how to be friendly. One of them—Harold Kingman—frequently put in bids for whatever meat I chose to sell after hunting.

When we reached the plaza, the four of us were aware that soon we'd be separated. I was sixteen—and sent to the line of my respected age and gender group, while DeLuca was to make her way to the seventeen-year-old group of girls.

Thomas and Riley were eighteen-years-old now, and had the happiness of no more Reapings to look forward to after today. This would be their last one.

We stood in line momentarily, listening to the soft sobbing of a little girl in front of us whose finger was just pricked for a bloody fingerprint. She stood there weeping, cries bubbling out of her throat. "You can _go_," said the Peacekeeper behind the table.

I kneeled down next to the little girl, and tucked a fiery red strand of hair behind her ear. "It'll be okay, Marley."

We were all familiar with Marley—she was the mayor's daughter, and this was her first Reaping. She was also one of the little girls who followed me around while I rebuilt equipment and machinery for whomever asked. I was exceptionally talented when it came to technology, and while District 12 was limited, we did have second-hand things such as overheads for the classrooms, automobiles for the richer citizens of the district, and other small contraptions. Because they were only second-hand, they fell apart a lot or stopped working.

That would be their signal to call on me—for a small price such as a piece of bread, candy, or other small necessities. I never ate whatever I was given however, instead I found people on the streets who looked like they could use something to eat.

"B-b-but—"

I put a finger to the little girl's quivering lips. "I said it'll be okay. Listen to me, the cut on your finger will go away in a few days—you'll barely notice it." Her tears stopped pouring, but she was still sniffling. "You _won't_ be chosen. This is only your first year."

By the time I coaxed Marley to stand with her respective age and gender group, the Peacekeeper behind the desk looked extremely annoyed. His beady, dark eyes were hard, and when he took my finger to get a blood sample, he pricked it harder than necessary.

"Hey!" Riley stepped out from behind me, but I gave him a rough push back. He knew the trouble he could get in if he picked a fight with a Peacekeeper.

"Is there a problem?" The Peacekeeper's smile was sinister.

"Not at all, _sir_." I gave him a forced smile, and then made my way to my own age and gender group. A few of the girls standing around me gave small smiles or half-hearted greetings, but no one looked lively. Who would? At the Reapings, _no one_ with a heart was ever lively.

The crowd of citizens and possible-tributes stirred restlessly. At last, our Capitol escort—Hilly Trench—approached the microphone in the center of the stage. Her bright pink high-heels made a clacking sound with every step she took, and her matching ensemble of a pink, hour-glass dress could burn holes through someone's eyes if they stared long enough. Her skin was a light blue, with pink swirls tattooed all around her legs and arms and neck.

"_Welcome_, welcome! May I welcome each and every one of you to the 100th annual Hunger Games! I am pleased to be here, at the very famous District 12, to choose two possible victors of the 100th games! Before we begin however, there will be a marvelous showing of a special video sent to you all the way from the Capitol!"

Hilly ran a hand through her faded blue pixie-cut, and smiled a toothy smile as the screen overlooking the plaza changed from the crowds of District 12 to the buzzing of a video shown every year. I caught DeLuca sharing a weak grin with me from the corner of my eye, and responded with a nail sliding across my throat. She smiled in feeble amusement, and I gave her a wink.

The Capitol's video gave a bland explanation of the Dark Days, an exaggerated description of the ruins of District 13 and the rebellion 25 years ago, along with a short clip of Katniss Everdeen being killed in a bombing by the Capitol. The former President Snow's voice narrated the terrible video, but I didn't listen to any of the words. I never did. What was the point?

Instead, I eyed Peeta Mellark—the boy who was in love with Katniss Everdeen—and felt a pang of sympathy at the struggle he was trying to hide. A tear escaped his left eye, and instead of facing the crowds of people, he bent his head in his hands and shielded his expression from District 12 and probably the rest of Panem.

I searched out a specific face in the groups of the seventeen-year-old boys, and found who I was looking for. The blonde head of Peeta's son—Hunter Mellark—could be spotted easily in the small group of boys. His eyes were focused on his father, and a look of pain was pressed on his features. I looked away.

The sudden sound of Hilly Trench clapping awoke the people of District 12 who were brave enough—or bored enough—to not pay attention to the video. "How marvelous! How simply marvelous!"

Hilly cleared her throat before continuing, "The escorts of the 13 Districts were asked not to announce the Quarter Quell until the day of the choosing-ceremony."

The intake of breath in the crowds of people showed how nervous and frightened they were—what would be the terrible addition to the 100th games?

"This Quarter Quell will provide two tributes from each district not hand-chosen, but instead by the two…most-_suited_ tributes after a test that will be given to every person eligible for the 100th Hunger Games. A 'survival of the fittest' of sorts, if you would."


	3. Stimulation

A/N: Here is the third chapter! Reviews would be realllly nice! I have trouble continuing stories when I get no feedback.

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I snorted, but changed it into a cough when a few people sent me harsh looks. A _survival of the fittest_? Really? They were going to force us to survive before two people were even chosen for the Hunger Games? The crowds of people were in an uproar, and Hilly looked uneasy. She was never that good at calming people down, but usually she never had to.

"That's _enough_!" A Peacekeeper stepped out of the shadows, and pointed his gun warningly at all of the angry people.

The uproar died down almost instantly.

Hilly hesitated. "Yes, well…anyhow! The test will be a stimulation, and each stimulation will be different for each person."

The Peacekeepers began dividing the small groups of possible-tributes, and I was one of the few people selected to go first. I was lead into the Justice Building, while the parents and relatives who were too old to participate were sent to their homes. I gave my father a reassuring wave before the door closed behind me. The Justice Building was white and grey, with pictures on the walls of the past Presidents, victors, and other important people.

When we entered a new hallway, I noticed with surprise a picture of Katniss Everdeen—a look of determination on her scrunched up features, and her golden Mockingjay pin shining in the sunlight.

We reached a tall, oak door that read _Testing_ on the top. The Peacekeeper roughly pushed me into the room when the door swung open, and slammed it shut behind me. There was another Peacekeeper in the room—this one was a female—and she beckoned me to the black chair in the center of the room with a menacing smile. The chair was hooked up to numerous machines and wires, and there was a subtle beeping sound escaping from somewhere. A helmet sat lonely on the top of the largest machine.

Everything in me screamed not to listen, but I knew what the consequences of not listening would be. At least if I was chosen to participate in the Hunger Games, I would have a chance at surviving. I sat down in the chair.

"Let's get this started, shall we?" The female Peacekeeper placed the helmet over my head; it was a snug fit. "You know, you resemble someone I knew of long ago."

I watched silently as she connected wire after wire with the helmet. "Who?"

The look in the Peacekeeper's eyes sent a chill down my spine. "That's not for you to know, is it?"

I said no more after that—I didn't have the chance. The Peacekeeper flipped a switch on the largest machine, and suddenly I was not in the room with her anymore.

I was by myself…in complete darkness.

My mouth was dry, but I didn't want to speak. I tenderly placed a foot forward, and tested the ground that looked to be missing; it wasn't. Taking a few more steps forward, I turned around in hope of seeing something…anything.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, a rabid animal that resembled a large bird came at me. Groping around for my boomerang—they wouldn't leave me defenseless, would they?—I was relieved when my hands fell around the top of a weapon. It was a boomerang, but it wasn't _my_ boomerang. I was okay with that.

Not taking a second longer, I took a step back and let loose the fatal weapon. A loud, curdling screeching sound erupted from the beast's beak, but the wing that I managed to chop off grew back almost immediately. And now the thing was angry.

It was upon me now; biting at my skin—I could feel its teeth sinking into my arm—and clawing at my stomach. Blood dripped from the wounds, and the pain felt _real_. Letting out an angry growl, I kicked the thing in the stomach and it fell off of me momentarily.

I took this chance to run back a few feet, and took my chances with the boomerang again. This time I took its immobility as time to aim for the beast's eye, and when I let the weapon out of my hand, it sliced straight through the target and then its scull.

This time, nothing grew back. It was dead.

Relief flooded through me, but it was only momentarily. Surely that wasn't the entire thing?

Almost immediately after that thought, the darkness began taking shape of a small house in the middle of a field. I was silent for a few moments, before recognition donned on me. I knew where I was…but _why_?

Suddenly, the house I was staring at erupted into flames. The fire licked at the wooden walls of the home, and I could hear a loud, distinguishable shriek. And then I was no longer in a stimulation made by the Capitol.

I was standing before our old house, the day my entire life fell apart.

It only took me a moment to take off into the burning building, and despite the deep fear of fire that was rooted deep inside—I knew that I had to save her. I couldn't let her die a second time.

"Clara!" I shrieked, pushing through the burning embers, "Clara, where are you!?"

The shrieks grew louder. "Addie! _Addie_! _Save me_!"

"Clara! Hold on, I'm coming! It's going to be okay!"

Another loud, pained scream echoed through the burning walls. This scream was filled with agony, and I knew I was too late. I reached the entrance of her room, stepping through the ashes, and came face-to-face with a burning little girl. "_Clara_!"

Tears poured out of my eyes, and I jumped on the girl with blackened skin, and wide, green eyes. The fire engulfed me too, but I didn't care. I rolled around, gripping tightly onto Clara, and tried to put it out. By the time the fire was distinguished, the little girl that was shrieking only minutes before was long gone. I didn't take the time to look at my own burn wounds, even though I could tell they were bad—maybe fatal—anything would be better than going through life without her.

I managed to get to my knees, and the shock of witnessing such a terrible thing a second time passed through me. When it was gone, I was left with a gaping hole in my chest. I struggled to breath. I struggled not to sob.

I closed her eyelids—her irises the only things that weren't ruined from fire—and stood up. The house was no longer burning, and I didn't care enough to wonder why or how.

The floor crumbled away between my feet, and I landed on the ground with bent knees and a harsh, crazy look in my eyes. There were no remains of the house, and the entire scenery had changed once more.

I was standing in a rain forest. Trees towered around me, long, thick, and green in all their glory. The sounds of animals subtly clawed at the moist air, and so often would a drop of water fall from the towering trees. I squinted, making out tree-houses built into the trees at the top, and turned to the closest tree. I used the hacked off branches to use as footing, and the longer ones to grab onto as I rose higher. These tree-houses were easily visible, and once I'd stepped onto the base of one, I pulled the rest of myself up.

Almost suddenly, the tree-house was torn away and I was sitting in a familiar black chair.

The Peacekeeper had a crazed, shocked expression on her face. Her hazel eyes were wide, and they bore straight into mine. "Adelaide, you must speak of your last scenery to no one. To give away what you've just seen would be to admit to an early death. Do you understand?"

I nodded stiffly, not caring enough to question her actions.

"Very well," she said, walking over to the door and holding it open, "May the odds be in your favor."

I exited the room, shaking and pale, and the two Peacekeepers waiting outside lead me out of the Justice Building.

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A/N: PLEASE REMEMBER TO REVIEW! FOR THE SAKE OF A COMPLETE STORY!


	4. Tributes

A/N: HERE IS THE NEXT UPDATE! I do not own the Hunger Games.

Ashley feliciano: I'm sorry I did not reply to you sooner - your review isn't showing up anywhere - but I would like to discuss what you messaged me about. So if you read this, please PM me on your fanfic account!

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After I was done with my stimulation, I was sent back to my home to await the mandatory announcement for District 12. I was shaken. I could feel a shiver rattling my spine, and sweat formed in beads on my forehead. My mind begged at the chance to erase the last hour of my life, but the picture of Clara in my head was fresh, painful, and new.

I couldn't think about it—I _wouldn't_ think about it.

Concentrating on the frazzle of panicked, terrified people instead, I climbed onto my porch and went through the door. My father was sitting at the table in the dining room, his hands clasped together, and a worried expression evident on his features. The moment he saw me, his arms wrapped around me. "Thank freedom you're alive," he whispered into my hair.

I hugged him back; needing the comfort. I spoke nothing of what I'd witnessed.

"The viewing is in an hour," said my Dad, running a hand through his blonde hair, "After you were taken with the first crowd of people, a small uproar began. People were not happy about this year's Quarter Quell."

"And with good reason!"

The voice wasn't Dad's. Both of us turned towards the door, and took in the presence of Thomas, Riley, and DeLuca. Each had expressions of unease, tired eyes, and pale skin—we spoke nothing of it. Riley, the one who spoke, lowered himself into a chair around the table.

While we were impatiently waiting for the announcement, Dad cooked up the meat we meant to feast on that night. The room was silent—the weight of the possibilities was heavy on our shoulders. This Reaping Day would be one of the longest in history.

"Five minutes," Thomas said in-between bites of his fox leg, "Let's get this over with so we can go back to normal life."

DeLuca turned away from him. Her eyes were hard and hidden, but her expression was one of strength. Her reply to Thomas was lost on her unmoving lips.

I excused myself from the table, shrugged on my leather jacket, and walked out the front door. Dad, DeLuca, Thomas, and Riley followed closely behind me, and we walked back to the plaza in silence. My mind was screaming at me—a headache pounding in my scull—and my chest swelled uncertainly. Everybody was crowded together, no need for order without the standard way of picking tributes, and waited for Hilly Trench to appear.

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack._

Hilly Trench, with a swing in her hips, walked onto the stage. Her lips were perched in a smug smile, and she hit the microphone with her chin when she went to speak. "_Welcome back_, citizens of District 12! In my hands are the names of two lucky people chosen to participate in the 100th Hunger Games!"

I squeezed my Dad's hand, kept my expression blank, and sucked in a small gasp of air.

"The female tribute of District 12—" She hesitated. "_Adelaide Lovise!" _

Panic seized my stomach, but I didn't let that show. All cameras and eyes were focused on me, and the rest of Panem would witness my Reaping too. The people who held my life in their hands would be watching, calculating, waiting…

I showed no flaws. Giving off a blank, indifferent expression, I walked through the parted crowds towards the stage, letting go of my father's hand. I didn't look back to see his expression.

"No!" A voice rang out from nearby. "_No! _I volunteer! Let me through! _I volunteer_!"

I gulped—and already knowing without looking who it was—forced my features to remain neutral. Riley stepped out of the crowd, and fumbled towards the stage. Two Peacekeepers held him back,.

"_Ahem_," Hilly awkwardly cleared her throat. "You are a male, and males may not volunteer in place of females. Also, volunteering is void in this Hunger Games due to the specific choosing of each tribute.

"I'll be all right," I told Riley, giving him a false, reassuring smile.

Hanging back—a look of defeat hugging his face—he was silenced and pushed back into his respectful place. Hilly clapped a hand on my shoulder when I raised to the stage, and I noticed two pairs of eyes boring into me.

Peeta, with a look of disbelief on his features, didn't move his probing eyes off of me, and neither did the other mentor—Haymitch Abernathy. Both expressions resembled the other, but I was not sure what provoked them.

"Congratulations—Adelaide, is it?—on being chosen to participate in the greatest Hunger Games yet!" Nobody clapped. Nobody ever did.

My eyes scanned the crowd—my chest in summersaults—and I watched DeLuca with tears streaming down her face, my father with a look of shock and pain, and the twins with anger and worry in their eyes. I didn't cry. I couldn't.

"Well, then! Next for our male tribute…" Her eyes glanced down at the piece of paper in her fingers, and her lips puckered together in anticipation, "…Hunter Mellark!"

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A/N: Reviews, yeah? : D


	5. Goodbyes

A/N: Here is the fifth chapter! Thank you to my one faithful reviewer! ;) I hope you enjoy the chapter!

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"No!"

Peeta Mellark was on his feet; a look of pure horror on his face. I didn't make eye contact with Hunter, who was staring holes into my shielded face, or Peeta, who had eyes only for his son. Pulled back into his seat by Haymitch, Peeta closed his mouth but his eyes were an open book.

The crowd was silent—you could hear a pin drop.

Making his way to the stage—a strong, unwavering expression on his face—Hunter stood alongside me. The crowd stirred. Peeta held his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face. Hunter stared unblinkingly at the crowd, and then looked at me. He said nothing.

Hilly Trench, with a look of excitement on her face, took the floor once again. "Well, what an interesting selection this year's tributes from District 12 are! Let's give it up for Adelaide Lovise and Hunter Mellark!"

Much like before, nobody clapped. There was a deafening silence passing through District 12, and the only interruption was the sobs Peeta Mellark choked on.

Staring into the sorry, tired eyes of my father, he raised three fingers to his lips and held them out to me. And then, for the first time since Katniss Everdeen's Reaping, the crowd standing before us bestowed Hunter and me with the three finger salute.

They were saying goodbye to loved ones.

My chest swelled, momentarily touched, and I was sure my face was beaming in response to their empathy.

Not knowing how to react, Hilly awkwardly clapped her hands together and lead us to the Justice Building to say our goodbyes. I moved with a stony demeanor, knowing this could very well be the last time I witnessed everything my District held, and bid my silent farewell as the doors swung shut behind me.

I was pushed into a large, satin-themed room. Portraits of past victors hung on the walls, and there was a lone red couch in the middle of the open space. I walked to the only window and peered out. I felt like I was in a dream—a _nightmare_. I would wake up any moment…

The door across from the window swung open, and DeLuca and Thomas barged in. I took in their windswept appearances, red cheeks, and sorry eyes. DeLuca was the first to gather me in a hug, and Thomas followed.

We stood like that, intertwined for the last time, and I didn't want to move. Ever.

But it felt incomplete. "Where's Riley?" I asked, praying I'd get to see his face once before I left.

Thomas studied me with calculating blue eyes, and then ran a hand through his dark brown hair. "He wanted his own five minutes to see you alone."

DeLuca wiped another tear from her eye. "He's taking it like a punch in the gut."

I sat down on the red couch, pushing thoughts of the missing twin to the back of my mind. There was something else I needed to focus on. "Please make sure Dad doesn't overwork himself and eats enough."

I worried for my father—without me, I had no idea what would become of him. My Dad was getting older every day, and his muscles weren't anything like what they used to be. Without having the ability to go hunting, there was a large chance he could starve to death or get fatally sick.

"I promise—" The doors opened, cutting off Thomas, and a Peacekeeper appeared.

"Time's up!" DeLuca, tears pouring down her cheeks, grabbed at me. The Peacekeeper was too fast, and before I could blink, my best friend was dragged out of the room. Out of my life. Thomas stood frozen for a second, before quickly turning to me. The Peacekeeper was grabbing him now, dragging him out the door, but Thomas was stronger.

"I promise I'll keep an eye on your father for you, Addie! But this won't be the last time-!" The door slammed shut, and Thomas's last farewell was left dead in the air.

I hung back, the will flooding out of me, and collapsed on the red couch again. I couldn't cry. I _wouldn't _cry_. _

A few seconds later, the door opened again.

Before I could even see his face, Riley's arms were around me and my nose was filled with his cinnamon scent. His grip on me was strong and steady, and I felt safe for just a second.

That second ended.

Riley's hands embraced my cheeks, and his face was barely an inch from mine. I stared into his one blue eye and one green—the only different he and Thomas shared—and could see the agony clearly. "You're strong. I know you're strong, and I know what you're capable of. You can come back, Addie, I know you can. We all know you can."

He spoke quickly, however his words of encouragement were deaf to my ears. "But I can't kill people, Riley! How am I supposed to transform myself into some murdering monster?"

I couldn't bring myself to kill an actual, breathing human being. How could anyone ever expect a child to be capable of such a horrendous thing?

Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to fall. Riley wiped away the ones that escaped, and leaned his forehead against mine. "We're not monsters," he whispered, "We're raised with the possibility of this destiny—we all are. Those who are chosen are only doing what they have to do—survive. You will do what _you_ have to do, and you _will survive_."

Too soon, the door swung open, revealing the same Peacekeeper from before.

In the flash of an eye—completely unexpectedly—I felt the soft pressure of lips on my own. As soon as I felt them, they were gone, and Riley was being dragged from the room. "Were not the monsters!" he shouted, fighting against the Peacekeeper. "The Capitol is! _President Snow is the monster_! _Don't give_—"

And then he was gone, and my first kiss was lost on his lips.

Almost immediately, the door opened for the third time, and I had no time to think about what just happened. Standing before me was a wrecked, sloppy version of my father. His hair was a mess and stuck up in random places, his skin pale, eyes exhausted, and an atmosphere of sorrow and defeat hung off him.

I ran to him, flung my arms out, and melted in his embrace. I could feel his stubble against my neck, and his tears were dampening my dress. "I love you, Addie," he whispered, pulling me tighter against him, "Don't you forget that for one moment when you're in that hellhole, do you understand? I'll be fighting for you. I'll fight for you until you come out a victor, and I'll be the first one waiting to welcome you back home!"

I couldn't hold it in any longer—I sobbed. The tears came out, one after the other, and within a second my cheeks were damp and sticky. We spoke no more words.

The minutes we spent together for—most likely—the last time eventually came to an end, and my father was ripped from my life. I felt like part of me was taken with him. Part of me was missing.

The door didn't close that time, and instead I was approached by Hilly Trench. Hunter Mellark loitered behind her, his cheeks as red as mine, and we were lead silently to the crowd waiting to see us off. When we stepped out of the Justice Building, cameras flashed and snapped and crowds screamed. I was taken aback by all of the commotion, and had to be guided slightly by Hunter as we made our way to the train.

We didn't know each other, but we didn't have to. Both of us were compassionate people—not raised to appeal to violence—and we could obviously relate with each other right now.

Strangers or not—in two weeks, we'd be all each other had left.

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A/N: Reviews, yeah? :D :D :D


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